Old Times
by Lithiasaur
Summary: Just a blurb I've been writing, that will expand as time permits! Giles and Ethan are up to their old tricks, whether they both like it or not.
1. Chapter 1

"Open the bloody door, Ripper, I swear to Christ I will kick it in!"

Giles rolled his eyes as the voice echoed through his living room, followed by persistent pounding that was now so angry the windows along that wall were rattling from the force behind each smack. He had no intention of giving in to the fairly impotent threats, of course, as that last one was almost exactly the same as the one ten minutes ago. His unwelcomed guest had been out there, in the rain, punching the front door for the better part of an hour, and Giles made no move to put an end to his suffering.

It was not like he was pretending to be out. At the first knock, as any gentleman would, Rupert Giles went to the door to see who it was, and opened it a fraction of the way before he recognized, of all things, the shoes standing on his stoop. He made half a second of eye contact with the face of his long time rival before slamming the door shut and sealing the numerous locks on it. It was built to keep the occasional demon attack out, and reinforced after multiple doors died there by being kicked in. No human, magical or not, was going to be getting in through the front door, unless Giles invited them.

And Ethan Rayne would never be invited. He was never welcomed, anywhere he showed up, as he was usually there to make life miserable for Giles and all of his friends. He was really, really good at that, which only added to Giles' resolute stubbornness in the matter of opening the front door.

"Goddamn it, Ripper, I'm not here to mess with you!" Ethan tried again, for the seventh or eighth time, as Giles continued to ignore him, "I need to come in, okay? I just need to talk to you!"

Ethan had never given Giles a reason to trust him. Even when they were both young and reckless, following the same dangerous path and playing wantonly with Dark Magic like it was just a toy for their enjoyment, Ethan had never really been one for telling the truth. Back then, his lies and addiction to making ridiculous plots that ultimately always failed, had just been a source of amusement and adventure to Giles, who had been ready to take on the world or die trying at all times until he actually faced the reality of the dangerous world they had created for themselves. Their stupid thrill seeking cost their friend his life, and others followed after, and Giles learned the hard way that there was more to being alive than just cheap thrills and the pursuit of pleasure and gain.

The man beating his palms raw against the door had not yet learned that lesson, and it was likely he never would. Dedicated to Chaos, and all things Black Magic, Ethan Rayne was a lost cause who held nothing but bitterness and resentment toward his former friend, for abandoning him so long ago. Giles got scared and couldn't handle the risks and thus did not deserve the bigger payoffs, and he had jumped shipped. Returned to his calling, Ripper said, as if that justified the whole thing. It still left Ethan high and dry, with no one by his side, and no one to share his adventures with. His dangerous schemes were a hell of a lot less fun, and ten times more volatile, without someone there to help him, to temper him, and to have his back. He ended up in more trouble than he caused, most of the time, and had to claw his way out of it each time, alone.

Except this time, he was in over his head.

Well. More so… than usual.

"Just open the door! Rupert, please!"

Giles looked up from his freshly brewed cup of tea, surprised by Ethan's use of his given name. Generally, Ethan refused to acknowledge that Giles had any kind of real name, first or last, and usually just stuck with the nickname that had defined him in his reckless days. Back when he was avoiding everything he could about who he was and what he was meant to do, he adopted the nickname Ripper for himself, and demanded all his friends call him by that moniker. It was a feeble attempt to pretend he was someone else, and for a few years it felt like it worked wonders. He had always just been running away, though, and it all caught up to him in the end.

Though he knew he was going to regret it, Giles moved toward the door and peered through the peek hole. Ethan looked like a half drowned rat, shivering with his arms wrapped around himself in a completely pointless effort to shelter and warm himself. It was pouring down out there, and the heavy wind offered no protection from it, even when standing under cover. Rolling his eyes at the miserable sight, Giles felt his guilt getting the better of him and relented, unlocking the door and finally pulling it open. He did not move out of the way or let Ethan in, though, instead standing in the doorway with his arms folded firmly over his chest.

The rush of heat was deliriously appealing as Giles opened the door and Ethan looked at him helplessly, all but begging to be let into the flat. Maybe given a cup of the tea he could smell being brewed, and perhaps a towel… good old Ripper wouldn't let him freeze out here all night. Though he had taken his time with it.

"Do you always take an hour to let someone in?! Not very hospitable, mate! It's a wonder you get any visitors at all. Can I come in, then? I'm freezing!"

Giles did not respond, beyond another heavy sigh and roll of his eyes. He stepped back and motioned for Ethan to enter, wrinkling his nose in distaste as Ethan immediately pushed past him, splattering him with ice cold water, and tracking mud through the entryway. Giles slammed the door behind him, grabbing Ethan by the back of the coat before he got into the living room and ruined everything in there.

"Take off your coat! And your shoes! Leave them here in the entry, lest you track that muck all over the place. Honestly, Ethan, you are a pain. What are you doing here? Not looking to turn me into a demon again, are you?"

"Still sore about that, eh?"

Giles only responded with a glare, moving away from Ethan as his unwelcomed guest actually listened to him and peeled off his coat. Giles got another mug from the cupboard and filled it with some tea, and got a plate of biscuits mostly on instinct. If he was being forced to play host, he would at least be a good one. Anyway, it went against his British sensibilities to not serve tea when there was a fresh pot at the ready.

Setting the serving tray on the table in the living room, he sat down in his usual armchair and waited for Ethan to finish tossing articles of clothing in the corner, by the door. He had managed to lose his outer coat, a jacket under it, his shoes and his socks before he felt dry enough to pass the threshold into the living room. He flopped down onto the sofa, immediately relieving Giles of any thoughts that he might actually be trying to be polite by putting his feet up on the sofa after grabbing his cup of tea. He drank from it greedily, apparently not noticing how hot it was. Giles watched him with wide eyes while he sipped at his own cup, though he put it down after being made to feel a bit sick from the display.

"Alright, Ethan," he said, after a long, tense quiet, "what are you doing here? You've managed to get inside, you might as well tell me what it is that brought you here. And perhaps expediently, if you do not mind, so we can get to the part where I throw you back out all the quicker."

Giles felt a heavy tension and the air crackled in a strange way. He looked across the way to the sofa, having mostly been avoiding looking at Ethan directly since his arrival for fear of his pent up rage getting the better of him, and was surprised to see the man now leaning forward, feet flat on the floor. He held his mug in both hands, elbows resting on his knees, but the cup was still shaking enough to unsettle the liquid inside. Giles turned more toward his former friend, fixing him with a very heavy gaze.

"Ethan," he said slowly, in the same tone he used on his Slayer when she was trying to hide something important from him, and he had to play the Watcher card, "what have you done?"


	2. Chapter 2

Giles had forgotten what it was like to live with another person. The constant companionship, the knowledge that there was always someone nearby, the fact that he could count on his food to be eaten before he ever had a chance to taste it, and a mess to be left in the sink that he did not make, but was somehow responsible for: the irrefutable reality of having a house guest was quickly settling back on his shoulders. Reminding him why he had been so eager to move into his own flat, and how he thrived on being alone.

Ethan Rayne, on the other hand, was rather enjoying himself in his new apartment. It was much nicer than the places he had been hiding in and crashing at over the last few days, and his roaming lifestyle, brought on largely by his irresponsible use of magic and unreliable nature, had helped him forget what it felt like to settle. He did not think he would ever be as domesticated as his terribly stuffy companion had become, but the idea of a constant roof over his head, a full fridge with magically restocking beer he did not have to pay for, and a comfortable bed to sleep in every night were certainly alluring. Of course, he had no manners when it came to living with someone else, immediately adopting the idea that what was in the apartment was fair game for everyone living there at the time.

What was Ripper's, then, became Ethan's. Just like the old days.

Ignoring the ever darkening glares he received every time he walked by Giles, Ethan hummed to himself as he fixed a plate of scrambled eggs for breakfast. He had toast burning in the toaster, and a cup of tea almost ready for himself. He did not think to make Giles anything, assuming the other man knew how to take care of himself and would fix himself the food he wanted, when he wanted it. There was no need for Ethan to baby him, after all, and Giles was probably not looking to be lumbered with taking care of Ethan, either. So, as far as Ethan was concerned, he was just doing his part by taking care of himself and not worrying about anything else. Truthfully, he did not even spare a thought to it, the idea so ingrained in him that it was second nature to worry only about himself, and what he needed to do to survive day to day.

Giles had lived an entirely different life to his one time counterpart, and it showed. His existence was one of caring constantly for others, and always thinking about them in the most broad of ways, needing to make sure their needs were taken care of as much as he did take care of his own. Even moreso toward taking care of them than himself, in fact, as he often let his own desires and necessities fall behind a bit when someone else needed more care. He was a Watcher, a father figure, and a loyal and dedicated friend. He was the rock that others came to when they needed support, and he was always all too willing to play that role. Sometimes too willing, he noted, as he began to feel his generosity was being taken advantage of. To Giles, Ethan seemed greedy and self centered, entirely too selfish for his tastes, but he reminded himself that it was all a matter of the lifestyle they chose. He did not know what kind of a day to day Ethan had, but it certainly could not be as comfortable, relatively speaking, as the one Giles himself had.

That was the only thought that really helped keep Giles from strangling Ethan every time the other man did something painfully obnoxious or oblivious. Sighing to himself, he followed the scent of tea into the kitchen and was not surprised to see a cup already prepared, sitting on a plate with half eaten eggs and a newspaper unfolded and hastily tossed on top of the breakfast setting. Ethan had gotten up to go somewhere, presumably to make another mess in the bathroom or leave his clothes all over the guest room's floor as he had been wont to do over the last few days.

Unfortunately, all the suffering Giles had sustained ever since Ethan arrived on his doorstep a few nights ago was necessary. It came down to research, and Ethan's troubles had quickly become Giles' , and the entire city's if they did not address the issue as quickly as possible.

"Morning, Ripper," Ethan said, wandering back into the kitchen. He looked comfortable enough, wearing a loose fitting T-Shirt he had found in the back of Giles' closet and a pair of sweat pants he obtained from who-knows-where. Giles tried not to ask too many personal questions, as they often just led to more frustrating and confounding ones. Ethan took his seat at the table again, picking up his paper and putting it to the side in a crumpled heap so he could finish his eggs and tea. Giles was at his counter in the kitchen, investigating the crumbs, steaming pans and water splashes left in the wake of Ethan's culinary adventure. He sighed, pushing his glasses back into place after they slipped down from the bridge of his nose. It was mostly an irritated gesture, which Ethan had already picked up on, and grinned to see.

"Have you made any progress on trying to locate the demon stalking you?" Giles asked, skipping the feigned pleasantries as he busied himself with cleaning, despite telling himself that this time he would not clean up the mess and would definitely make Ethan do it. "I have more references you can look through, if the ones you have aren't yielding enough results."

"No, I've got plenty of books," Ethan groaned, rolling his eyes, "I just didn't get a good enough look at them. I don't know what you want me to do. I told you everything I know, but you keep pushing for me. What do you expect me to do? I need you to help me figure this out, that's why I came here! If I knew what was going on, why would I come to you?!"

"You want me to solve your problem for you," Giles said, with a calm indignance that immediately made Ethan's blood boil. All the fun he had at the sake of annoying the other man quickly dried up now that they were getting serious, "I am doing what I can to help you, but only you know what you've done. I know there is more that you are not telling me."

Ethan huffed, dropping his fork onto his plate with a clatter and pushing his chair back from the table as he rose. Giles turned, watching him with a cold patience, as if expecting a tantrum from a spoiled toddler. Ethan opened his mouth to say something, but the words failed before they escaped his throat. He shut his mouth and moved into the living room, Giles following slowly and noting the man looked visibly shaken again.

Every time Giles got close to a real answer about what Ethan was running from, this happened. The other man shut down, and Giles saw flashes of true, deep fear in him. It was worrying, and the real reason why Giles allowed Ethan to stay in the flat despite his attitude and lack of civility. Ethan was scared. And whatever had scared him was likely very terrifying and dangerous, to everyone, considering the kind of things Ethan did for fun. This was a man who steeped himself in Chaos magic, and knew all about the darkest side of things. It was not easy to shake him, yet something had him rattled to the core. Giles might have been pushing him, but he did care about Ethan, if only because of their past, and the fact that, when it came down to it, Ethan was still human. Still deserved a chance. Maybe he was not as irredeemable as he seemed.

Maybe this was the turning point he needed.

So far, Ethan's story had been punctured with holes. From his arrival several nights before, soaked to the bone and exhausted from days of running, and before that, to what forced him into that flight. Giles had to force the man to reveal the important details, and he knew that there was still a lot more to this story. It was difficult for Rupert to guess, but he had to make a few assumptions. Whatever it was, it was serious enough for Ethan to want to hide with someone he knew could help, someone with connections and resources. And experience. It was bad enough to honestly scare a man that laughed at fear and welcomed chaos with glee. There were demons on his tail, that much he had revealed, and he did not know who or what they were. Giles asked him to find a picture of the demons in the hundreds of books he had on hand in his flat for just this kind of thing. There were many demon and occult references books, like atlases and encyclopedias, for him to draw from, and Giles forced him to pour through them most of the day, until his will completely gave out and he refused to do any more reading. So far, he had not been able to come up with a demon that looked similar to the ones he said were following him.

Giles realized a heavy silence had settled over the room, and Ethan's usually stubborn and unnecessarily cocky attitude had deflated at last. He was sitting in the living room, and looked up as Giles slowly rounded to sofa to stand in at the end of it, Ethan against the opposite arm.

"I know what they are."

"I thought you might," Giles said, though his tone was measured and cautious. Any trace of irritation was gone, and he watched Ethan with a serious gaze, as if trying to read his mind. "What are they? Why did you bide your time?"

"You're not going to like the answer, Ripper."

"I didn't think I would. Tell me."

"I needed to keep you distracted, so they could work. I'm sorry, Ripper, I really am. This one time, I didn't actually want to get you involved, mate, I promise you that. This is not how I wanted this to happen."

Giles felt a cold understanding sink into his chest, gripping his heart and refusing to let it beat for a moment, until a ragged breath finally tore its way into his lungs, and his chest opened up to welcome it. He shook his head slowly, taking a step back from the sofa, though he was not sure what his instincts thought he could do now. This was a trap. Ethan was not in danger, and never had been: of course he had been lying, the entire time. Giles was an old, sentimental fool that had once again let himself be taken advantage of in the benefit of the doubt. Ethan had used his predictable nature against him, to buy time, to keep him from noticing something important. Giles did not notice when he moved, the white flash of anger only fading after he had already hauled Ethan up from his seat and was holding him by the collar of his shirt.

"Who? What is happening?"

"Chaos. It's going to be Chaos. And it's too late to stop them. No one could, anyway. I kept you safe, Ripper. You're not going to believe that, but I did what I had to. For them, for you. It's not going to matter, whatever you would have tried was going to fail. You'd've thrown your life away, and where's the fun in that? You and I have a destiny, and it's not over yet."

"Blast you!" Giles felt a very old anger rise up in him, and he let it take control this time. Any other time, he might have tried to control it, to push it back down, to do the reasonable thing instead. Now, thugh, he was all too happy to let himself get angry. He slammed his fist into Ethan's face, as hard as he could manage in one heated moment. It didn't take him long to wrestle Ethan to the door and shove him through it, the door slamming back on its hinges by the force of it being thrown open with a body. Ethan was saying something, but Giles could not hear him, slamming the door behind him with blood pumping so loudly in his ears that everything else was drowned out under the drumming. He moved to the television set, turning on the news, while reaching for his phone. He noticed now that the wire had been removed. No one had been able to call him, and his cell phone was… where? He left it on the table, with its charger, a gift from the gang and something he dutifully remembered to keep close just in case. It was for emergencies. He looked and saw the charger, but no phone. Ethan again.

How had he managed to miss all these signs? How had he been so complacent, so trusting? All his irritation meant nothing, because he had still allowed Ethan to do whatever he wanted, fooling himself into thinking he was keeping an eye on things. Giles could kick himself all day, but it was not going to change anything. He was almost in a panic, a strange and unwelcome feeling for him. His emotions were getting the better of him, and he told himself to calm down. Ethan was a liar. Even now, he could be stretching the truth.

There was time to figure things out. He hoped. First, he had to get his phone connected, then he would see what he missed with the others, and if the Slayer had heard or seen anything troubling over the last few days. The lack of contact troubled him now. If they had not been able to get through to him when they called, usually they just came by his flat and invited themselves in. No one had visited while Ethan was there.

Giles' hands were shaking as he plugged the phone back in and picked the receiver up from its cradle. He got a dial tone, and quickly punched in Buffy's number. Each ring made his blood run colder, and the heavy weight of anxiety continued to grow in the pit of his stomach.

Something terrible was happening. And he did not know what it was.

It might have already been too late.


End file.
